


What I hear

by Emyrldlady



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Clint is always getting hurt, Fluff, M/M, Pre C/C
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-14
Updated: 2016-06-14
Packaged: 2018-07-14 22:41:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7193828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emyrldlady/pseuds/Emyrldlady
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So I had a prompt list thing go around and onlysilentawe sent me 'things you said when you thought I was asleep'. This isn't quite that. But I hope they like it anyway!</p>
<p>Again, best beta AmazonX</p>
<p>Phil listens, even if Clint isn't saying anything</p>
            </blockquote>





	What I hear

Phil Coulson sat by his asset’s hospital bedside, not something all that unusual. Clint Barton, aka Hawkeye, the Greatest Marksman in the World, had a bad habit of falling; usually off rooftops, sometimes out of trees, a few times bouncing off of cars and that one time off of an actual dirigible. In his defense, he was usually getting shot at when it happened, and that tended to throw off one’s coordination a hair. 

Phil doesn’t sit by just anyone’s bedside. Of course, he always checks in with medical when one of his team is injured. Natasha has a tendency to see to her own wounds with only a superfluous check in, but she’s never one to ignore something serious so Phil doesn’t worry about her much. He tried to mother hen Melinda once; that went badly. There have been many over the years, too many unfortunately. But usually it’s just a quick check to see if they’re all right and if there will be down time for them to recuperate. 

But Clint Barton is different; he has been from the start, despite what Phil tells himself. Clint never asked for help, but never complains when Phil sends him to medical. On overnights, he never asks someone to watch over him while he sleeps in medical. He just never slept. Any time a nurse or doctor came by, he was awake. It didn’t matter the time of day or how long he’d been there. He was just always hyperaware of his surroundings and despite his claims that he felt safe, his actions told Phil the opposite. Clint would say he was fine, joke with the nurses about escaping through the vents. He never really did, but it was a close thing some days, Phil thought. 

Clint was a chatterbox, always talking on the comms despite the fact that Phil asks for radio silence. He’s always gesturing and gregarious in the break room and will have you laughing while he takes your money playing darts. He needed to fill the void of silence. But the thing about Clint was that you had to listen to what he didn’t say, and Phil did. 

Phil knew that Clint only trusted a very few people, he was honored to be one of them. How Clint could trust anyone was amazing to him considering his upbringing. How can you learn to trust when the people who are supposed to teach you are the ones betraying it? 

When Clint said he wasn’t hungry, Phil always got extra helpings. When Clint said he wasn’t cold on the roof outside in the snow, Phil would make sure that his gear had extra heat packets. And when Clint said he didn’t need anyone to watch over him in the hospital, Phil brought all his extra paperwork to catch up on while Clint slept.

***

Clint woke and froze for just a moment. His disorientation dissipated with the antiseptic scent of medical and the confident scratching of Phil’s pen in the quiet room. “Hey, boss,” he croaked, throat dry from disuse and medicine.

Phil stood to get his asset ice chips. “Barton, two fractured ribs, two broken fingers on your left hand, gravel rash on your right upper rear thigh, which will probably hurt worse than the rest if the coloring is anything to go by,” Phil calmly recited Clint’s list of injuries.

“Peeking at my ass, sir?” Clint asked, once he’d gotten a soothing mouthful of ice.

“Yes. It is my everything and any small glimpse of it just makes my day,” Phil deadpanned.

“Well, all you had to do was ask, sir. You know how I aim to please. And hey, regular viewing means you don’t have to hover over me in medical. Win-Win.”

“I don’t hover, Barton,” Phil replied gruffly. “Besides, it gives me a chance to catch up on my paperwork. Anytime I’m in my office, the junior agents crawl out of the woodwork seeking advice. Now, go back to sleep.”

Clint grinned, laying his head back down. “Sure thing boss.” 

Phil wasn’t the only one who could hear what wasn’t said.


End file.
